


Coffee And Everything After

by apocryphile



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphile/pseuds/apocryphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh and Donna re-connect on the campaign trail and talk through the changes in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee And Everything After

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my post-episode vignette for King Corn, [Unlocking The Door](http://archiveofourown.org/works/629649), but it's relatively easy to pick up the thread.

When Donna opened her door in the morning, she found one of the receptionists poised to knock, giving her the sort of look one might normally reserve for small children or domestic animals.

Donna frowned in confusion. The woman was from the night shift, who were usually done (but only just) by the time the campaign staff started their morning, and she was toting a large steaming cup and a paper bag from a coffee franchise whose closest outlet was several blocks away – Donna’s favourite.

Sadie, her name badge said, and she held out the cardboard tray with another beaming smile.

“Mr Lyman paid me fifty bucks to pick this up and bring it to you before I went home.”

Donna opened her mouth, but unable to think of a suitable response, closed it again. Sadie seemed unruffled.

“I think it’s just about the sweetest thing I ever heard of. There’s a note, too.”

Blushing, Donna managed a thank you, accepting the delivery and turning away before Josh’s clearly enthralled envoy could gush any further. She set down her unexpected breakfast and paused for a moment in the doorway, thinking. Nodding to herself as she reached a decision, she displayed the Do Not Disturb sign before closing and locking the door, dumped her bags, and pulled out her phone.

“Something came up with the Santos campaign,” she texted Will, not quite lying. “Catch you at the airport.”

She could hear the excuse she’d give him – “Oh, it was nothing, but you know, they’ve been so unpredictable, I didn’t want to miss something and regret it later” – and she even knew what she’d distract him with, if pressed (the women’s rights’ lobby’s response to the situation in Turkey, which in fairness did require their attention). Both strategies, she’d learned while handling Josh, she admitted to herself, and while they weren’t necessarily the ones she was most proud of, they were damn useful. 

Her mind already full of him, she sank onto the bed to consider Josh’s offering.

When he’d promised her coffee, she’d assumed it would be in person, but she fully understood the unpredictable nature of this crazy business of theirs, and she was touched by his solicitude in doing his best to keep his word in the face of some unexpected political development.

Unless he was chickening out and trying to make up for it, but her gut – and her memories of the previous night’s heart-to-heart – told her otherwise.

Eyeing the edge of the envelope, half hidden in the tray, she took a sip of the drink, and smiled as she recognised the heavily sweetened flavoured froth as the concoction she’d made him buy her to make up for one of his worst managerial transgressions. She’d added extras at random to drive up the cost, and he’d clearly since forgotten that on that occasion she’d stolen the plain coffee he’d got for himself. Now, as it had been then, what he’d bought her was almost undrinkable, and for a moment she imagined a lifetime of unbearably insipid espresso creations presented in the aftermath of domestic disagreements. 

Shaking her head, she lifted the bag and considered the note. 

The “Donnatella” was faintly smudged, but his use of her full name brought a smile to her face. As she opened it, she rolled her eyes at herself for the inordinate care she was taking – and at him, for she discovered he had written the note on the back of a diner menu, from the nearby Harvest Café.

He had started three times over.

“Donna,” in the careful letters he used when he was relaying detailed information. Then, “My dear Donna”.

And then, in a different pen, in the slanted scrawl she associated with him having had a revelatory idea he wanted to set in motion as soon as fathomably possible-

“My dearest Donnatella.”

She took a deep breath. 

"Had to go to DC, back tonight - dinner?"

She burst out laughing at the anticlimactic matter-of-fact missive, but after a moment, Donna realized she was actually nodding, vigorously, alone in her room.

\---

Josh had only been in town three days when the waitresses at the Harvest had let him know they were worried about him. They'd watched him guzzling coffee late into the night, solitary meals left mostly uneaten, surrounded by drifts of paperwork. He would come in with the Congressman, who would efficiently put away a healthy dinner and then excuse himself to go call his family. Josh would linger over the same order every night of a not-burnt-enough burger he didn't even have the energy to argue about.

What worried the waitresses (who swapped intel during the shift handovers scheduled to double them up at rush times) was that he'd be back a handful of hours later, showered and shaved in a fresh suit but looking no brighter, and resume his bleary stance in the back booth he'd claimed as his own.

That night, the fourth night, he was frowning at a page of recalcitrant figures when something made him look up. He froze in his seat. Across the diner, Donna was shrugging out of her coat, smiling at the owner, a rotund, avuncular man named Karl. When she pulled her hat off and shook out her hair, Karl's expression changed into something less paternal and Josh bristled.

He was still debating whether to go over when she spotted him, and her face lit up. Josh hauled himself to his feet, stumbling and nearly toppling over, somehow managing to keep his gaze locked on hers. Neither of them noticed the hush that had descended as she hurried through the tables to get to him.

When she was about a foot away, she stopped and bit her lip. He took a deep breath.

"C'mere."

When she stepped into his arms he almost laughed from the sheer familiar joy of it. He squeezed her tight and rocked her slightly and after a moment she did laugh softly and he pulled back to look at her.

"I'm really glad you showed up," he tried to joke, but it came out sounding as heartfelt as it was.

She nodded emphatically, and he realized she'd been laughing at herself for crying. He tugged her back towards him and held her even closer.

The whispering from behind the counter reached a fever pitch.

When he finally let go of Donna and gestured for her to slide into the booth, a trio of waitresses appeared at warp speed. He failed to hide his amusement as the first held out a menu and the second set down a glass of water, only to be shooed away by the third, who was empty handed.

"Can I get you a drink, honey?"

Donna glanced at Josh's beer and ordered the same. The waitress beamed at them and scurried off.

"What was that all about?"

Josh grinned and leaned back, extending his hand along the seat back towards her. When she took the hint and moved closer, he smiled wider and rested his arm across her shoulders.

"They think you're here to save me from myself."

She raised her eyebrows and he hastily made a dismissive gesture with his free hand.

"Campaign schedule, you know. They think I'm not getting enough sleep."

"And he drinks too much coffee and doesn't eat any of his food."

Annie, Karl's wife, set Donna's beer down with a stern expression, as though daring him to protest. Donna sighed, shaking her head, but she was smiling.

"That's not all that unusual."

"You ready to order, hon?"

Donna asked for a large garden salad, and two side plates. Annie nodded knowingly but Josh was baffled. Donna just patted his knee.

"I'm not going to lecture you about eating or sleeping, OK?"

He smiled faintly.

"There's a but coming, isn't there?"

For a moment he saw hesitation in her eyes and he winced internally. She never used to hold back telling him off. But she bit her lip and kept her response vague.

"You're risking a lot for this campaign, Josh. Don't..."

She trailed off as two small plates and a small mountain of bread were delivered to the table, and he understood her intentions almost immediately when she pulled his burger and fries over and divided them up into almost equal portions, leaving him the slightly larger share.

"So that's why you always eat my food? So that I have to have some of your salad?"

She shrugged.

"It's worked OK so far."

He debated whether he should point out that if it had never really been her job to balance his nutritional intake, it most definitely wasn't now, but she ate a French fry and then licked her lips and he got distracted.

They sat in almost companionable silence until the salad was served up, casting glances at each other that utterly failed to be surreptitious in any way. Once they each had a sizable portion of foliage in front of them, Josh made a show of grimacing his way through half of it before touching any more of his original meal.

Donna giggled.

"What is it that Toby says? It tastes like dirt?"

"The ground. And it does."

Her smile was a little wistful.

"I miss Toby. I miss everyone." She looked directly at him. "I miss you, Josh."

He'd promised her an explanation but even though she'd said as much and more the night before, her unexpected candor threw him off and he faltered.

"I... I miss you too."

He looked at her pleadingly, at a total loss for what to say next. She searched his face for a moment and then nodded, almost imperceptibly. Heaving a sigh, Josh grasped for small talk.

"Tell me about Christmas. You went home, right?"

She'd spent a lot of that whirlwind trip crying as quietly as she could while festive chaos rang through her parents' house, but she told him about her cousin's kids toppling the Christmas tree and the fact that six people in her family had received the same book as a gift - from different people. She'd given one copy to her Mom and received one from her aunt. As she spoke, Josh visibly relaxed, and when he tightened his grip on her shoulders she leaned in to him, closing her eyes as he replied in his usual teasing tone.

"What was it? Or do I not want to know?"

"A historical recipe book."

He chuckled.

"Does it have anything actually edible in it?"

"I don't know, it's still in a suitcase in my apartment."

Josh nodded, understanding, but the thought of her hasty departure for the campaign trail brought back memories he was still struggling with. Donna squeezed his fingers, waiting him out.

“You left so fast,” he began, and then stopped. Just as she thought he might actually give up, he went on so quietly she had to strain to hear him.

“I wonder… I wonder, if I’d had the chance to say goodbye then, whether things would have turned out differently.”

He was practically hoarse with emotion, and Donna’s brow furrowed.

“I wouldn’t have let you talk me out of it, Josh.”

He shook his head.

“I know. I might have tried, but that’s not what I meant. After… after you were hurt…”

Donna felt his grip on her tighten, saw his knuckles whitening. She turned to look at him and saw that now his eyes were closed. 

“…I realised the only reason we weren’t together is that we worked together.” He felt her reacting and quickly corrected himself. “I mean the only reason I hadn’t pursued you.”

She took a deep breath.

“When we were in Germany, it seemed like you weren’t going to let that stop you anymore.”

“I wasn’t.”

She bit her lip, knowing what was coming.

“I was going to quit, but Leo had a heart attack.”

“But then CJ got the job,” she whispered.

Josh thought for a moment before answering.

“I think that might be one of the reasons why.”

Donna’s eyes widened.

“They passed you over because of me?”

“Not you, exactly. How I felt about you. What I was about to do… they’re pretty smart guys.” He smiled wryly. “Smarter than me, anyway.” He ran his hand through his hair. “And they wouldn’t have messed up as badly as I did.”

“I don’t know about th--”

“I’m sorry, Donna. You deserved better. I panicked, and when I couldn’t figure out what to do, I didn’t do anything, and then I got distracted and took you for granted at the worst possible time. I was a bad boss and a bad friend, never mind a terrible would-be suitor. But what we did have felt so precious, after…” He blinked. “I’d been so consumed with the idea of what would happen if we got closer… it never even occurred to me you might leave. I took you for granted,” he said again, “and I’m sorry.”

She looked at him for a long moment, smiling when he held her gaze, content with his explanation and touched by his apology. Her eyes shone as she replayed his words in her mind.

“Wold-be suitor?”

He licked his lips, searching for the right turn of phrase, determined not to take her for granted any more.

“I should have had the nerve to tell you how I felt. Feel. Have felt…” 

“Tell me now,” she murmured, and he nodded, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned to face her, gently cupping her cheeks, and leaned in until she could feel his breath on her lips. 

One of the waitresses actually squeaked, and so Donna was laughing when Josh kissed her. To a chorus of hooting and hollering from behind the counter, they clutched each other and chuckled incredulously as they came up for air. 

“Time to go?” Josh looked hopeful, terrified, bemused and exhausted all at once. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, not letting go.

Josh emptied his wallet onto the table without looking, but then held it up and peered worriedly at the space where his hotel room key should have been.

“I, uh, think I’ve locked myself out again.”

Donna snuck another kiss.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” She shot him a heated look. “I haven’t even thanked you properly for the coffee yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all are going to kill me for that ending, I just know it. I'LL TRY AND WRITE THE NEXT BIT, I PROMISE. This took me nearly eight months - I've had parts of this for way longer - so let's just be glad I managed to come to SOME kind of conclusion and leave it at that! ;)


End file.
